same old, same old
by gustin puckerman
Summary: Footsteps gone, leaves burn and chocolate stains. Set of drabbles around random couples. Post-film.
1. charlieveruca

**Bunch of one-shots/drabbles about random couples from Charlie and The Chocolate Factories (film). This is solely for my own pleasure and entertainment. You guys can also drop your opinions and any prompt (and it can be in any form: a dialogue, a line of a lyric, a quote etc, etc - and don't forget to tell me what pairing you'd like me to write), and yeah. The film was a true enjoyment and I hope this isn't a disappointing and sad effort of trying to conjure up a tolerable fic**.

verucacharlie; "_i never thought i'd see you again_"

as requested by: winterly paris

.

Veruca sees his silhouette before anything (which was weird because long, long years ago, he was the last one she noticed).

He's grown older now; taller, hair's darker and skin's a little less pale, and he looks a lot less miserable than during that year where they all got invited to the damn factory. He notices her, eyes alert and mouth's curling. He's calling out for her.

Veruca makes a chocking sound deep down in her throat and turns on her heel. _Gosh, what's the idiot doing here_. But she guesses he has also grown faster because now his hands are around her elbow and he's pulling her to a stop and he's smiling - and why is he smiling? Nobody's entertaining him! Veruca sneers so hard at him that she could feel her face aches.

"Veruca," he calls her name breathlessly - like she's a miracle, like she's more than the snobbish little rich kid whose daddy lost everything and now is just a sad drunkard and now the whole family is just scrapping for their one and only heiress to get through college. He looks at her, from head to toe - but she just rolls her eyes very, very hard. "I never thought I'd see you again."

"Get away from me, you little psycho." She snarls, taking her elbow back.

"But -"

"I don't know you." She retorts, annoyance having her in every limb.

"Yes, yes you do." He states, his eyes furrowed, his lips stern. "You do know me, Veruca Salt, and I know _you_."

"You know _nothing_."

Charlie's eyes turn slightly darker, "Try me."

And then they have the stare and Veruca doesn't know why but there's just something about him that makes her skin crawls (and also her heart thumps in an odd manner) and then, he sighs out, runs his hair through his messy dark hair (he's not that bad-looking now is he?) and says, "I'd like to have a talk with you. Maybe we could get a coffee? Or you know, anything you prefer."

She thinks she flinches when their fingertips brush. She exhales the cold air. "Okay."

And then, he smiles. (and once again, he's not that bad-looking now is he?)


	2. mikeveruca

**I made the prompt myself - but the idea for the couple is requested. Enjoy**.

mikeveruca; _nothing left to say_

as requested by Guest

.

Veruca is really _some_thing, isn't she?

Something snarls inside Mike's head as he stares down at this broken-down girl in front of him, eyes shatter, lipstick smudges and eye-liners fall like an obnoxious paint over her pale cheeks. She's never look so beautiful, in all honesty.

Mike licks his lips viciously, tasting the blood and not wincing at the pain where her nails cut through on top of his lips. It isn't deep, but _God does it hurt_.

They're always fighting, he thinks. Never satisfied with each other, always finding faults in the littlest of things. He doesn't know why he keeps up with her sometimes. Wait. Make that _all of the times_.

So, so troublesome.

But then her feet moves and she never hesitates in her steps (NEVER!) and walks over to him and grasps his jaw like her life depends on it and crashes their lips together - and Mike sees stars and galaxies and more than the world can offer him. Because really, when everything finally unravels and both their bones are tired and throats raw and tears shed, there's nothing more to say.

Nothing more to say than that they love each other, more than anything, more than the average eye could see, more than the average mind could predict or calculate or _measure_.

And Mike - Mike sometimes get why he keeps up with her.


	3. charlieviolet

charlieviolet;_ love_

as requested by ColorM

.

On most days, Charlie takes Violet's "You're stupid," as a replacement of her actually saying "I love you."

And on those days, Charlie would wrap her in his arms - and she'll try to struggle her way out, but doesn't use much of an effort because he knows deeply how much she secretly likes it - laughs in her hair (that smells of mint oddly) and tells her how much he loves her.

It's quiet funny how they end up here, but neither ask questions anymore.

But on quiet, lonely, calm-before-the-storm days (or may it be nights), it'll be her hands wrap around her torso almost lazily, but close and warm and honest and Charlie doesn't mind (oh how he doesn't mind), and at some point, she'll hide her face against his clothes and there will be a little muffling, but because she refuses to be a coward, she'll voice it out, "I love you."

And it will be slow and somewhat sweet and for that one moment, Charlie will see how she's breaking up all of her well-constructed wall for him - _just for him -_ and she will be looking up expectantly, almost afraid, big eyes begging for him to say something.

And he'll smile, have her closer, kisses her temple and says, "I know."

But honestly though, under blankets and pale cheeks and ringing laughter and trading fingers in busy streets; Charlie's fine with either way.


	4. mikeveruca ii

mikeveruca; _hate_

as requested by ColorM

.

"I hate sands," she tells, when they're at the beach, her face scrunches up in the ugliest of ways that makes Mike's stomach churns and twists - the sun's streaming down on them, burning up her skin slowly.

He tries not to stare. "You hate everything." He says instead, looking out at the beach.

He doesn't tell her that he dislike the beach the same - but the wind's rather nice, and the ocean's blue-er than usual.

And Mike tries not to acknowledge the fact Veruca's sitting closer to him than she usually would prefer - or the other fact that he finds himself actually _liking it_. (What?! Yuck!)

"Well," Veruca huffs, her face scrunches up some more. "I don't particularly hate you."

"Good." He says, somewhat feeling satisfied (and happy and good, and he doesn't tell her that he kinda sorta doesn't hate her as well). Mike wants to smile more, but the sun's in his eyes - and her skin is glowing more than it should. He kinda groans, "Hey. News Update: your skin's cookin' up."

And then she shrieks and _God why_ and then she's wailing her head off at him to buy her a sunscreen and Mike groans some more.

(But you know, he kinda sorta doesn't hate her still.)


	5. augustusveruca

augustusveruca; _soccer_

as requested by Guest

.

The ball rolls over her feet in a slow manner, finally stopping as it thud against her shoe. She looks up. "I've never been good in soccer," she tells, accent thick and eyelashes long.

His hair's darker and he's grown taller - looses a little of his weight, but not a lot. Still a man, though. Veruca nods. _Still very much a man_. "Me too," there's a smile on his tired face.

"You should have told me you were sick." She says, picking up the ball and weighing it on her hands.

Her eyes flicker back at this man - the man she's been writing back and forth to like they're secret lovers (and maybe underneath they are) and she remembers his scrawny handwritings, but admires his large vase of knowledges on vocabulary and sees his memories through written words; every laughter, tears, heartbreaks and everything in between.

_Everything in between except_... "The paper didn't fit." He says back, kicking off dirt. "And my hand is too tired."

"Excuses, excuses," she feels the rage bubbling inside of her chest, drumming through her ribs. She glares at him - this person who holds her secrets and stories and so much more and - and - is _dying_. And he's just standing there expecting everything will turn out just fine. "You're a whole lots of them, aren't you, Augustus?"

"I'm very sorry, Veruca."

"Don't." She squeezes the ball in between her hands. "How long until...?"

"Not long."

"Well," She blinks her tears away and rolls the ball towards him. "Might as well learn something new until it happened. Something to remember me by - because you know, of how much we suck at it."

He laughs - and there's a twitch of a smile on her face. _God is she glad he's alive now_. "I would love that, please," he says, taking the ball in his hand.

She nods, and walks over.


	6. mikeviolet

**I can't help myself**.

mikeviolet; _light_

.

Mike rarely thinks anything is beautiful. While his mother finds beauty in the dullest of antics stuff and his father appreciates nature, the only think that comes close to beautiful for Mike is the high definition of any video games he plays everyday.

Well, _used_ to play everyday.

Since he's got himself tangle with Violet Beauregarde, he barely gets any time for himself. She's always dragging him _everywhere_, trying to hammer knowledges of sports and martial arts Mike doesn't particularly care about, and calls him _idiot_ when Mike knows he has the IQ that almost reaches Einsteins, and she really, really is a wholesome of annoying.

And now they're at the park somewhere and he's lying down to avoid the whole idea of her when she sits down next to his lying form. It's one of the rarest times when she doesn't do anything - just stares ahead and looks somewhat decent.

He slightly grunts, but lets her be - letting the wind caresses his face and the silence seeping in.

"Hey Mike," Annoying suddenly says. Mike allows himself to open one eyelid.

Annoying smiles - Mike realizes she never really smiles (she smirks and beams, but never really just _smiles_) and she looks sorta nice - and her platinum blond hair is falling down in her big, baby eyes and the light that's filtering through the leaves hit her face very nicely and Mike feels something flipping in his stomach. "Thanks for... _tolerating_ my presence."

Just for that one moment, under the lights, her eyes sparks with something else - something foreign. Something that's sad.

Mike hums as an acknowledgment.

And Annoying smiles wider, seemingly satisfied (the strange spark vanishes immediately) with his respond and looks up ahead. Mike stares. The lights never leave her.

Mike grumbles, closes his eyes and tries to scratch that one particular word out from his head at the sight of her - _beautiful_.


	7. augustus

**not any particular couple, but i want to try this out**.

augustus; _eat  
_

.

At first, when he was young, it hadn't mattered. In fact, he was sorta a pride-and-joy. So chubby, so cute, so _adorable_. It wasn't a problem - _wasn't a torture_. And his parents, it's not like they don't care - it's that, Augustus thinks, that they care a little _too much_.

("Oh eat more, my boy! You grow big and healthy!" "Eat, eat! Never waste food!" "Why aren't you finishing - my baby boy has got to grow big and proud!")

Too much, too much.

And now he's sixteen and he's a living curse in his own body, within his own skin, under his own flesh. _Too fat. Too fat_. Barely has any friend, barely could live through his daily life.

So now he stares at his plate during dinner with empty eyes, declining it once more - ignoring his mother's worried chatter, his father nervous glance. _Too fat. Too fat_.

He pushes his plate and walks upstairs.

.

("He won't eat, Doctor! We've tried everything!"

The doctor looks on worriedly, nodding his head. "He has to gain some weight soon. If this continues, we won't see him with anymore flesh. Just bones and a hollowed stomach."

His parents cries.)

What he sees is an over-sized boy, what his parents see is a _dying one_.


	8. mikeviolet ii

**If you have any prompts at all - please don't be shy and tell me**.

mikeviolet; _of which mike has a sister and confessions are passed around_

.

"Your sister is _fat_," says Violet, carrying the infant at arm's length form her body, grimacing slightly as she says it.

Mike sighs, but doesn't disagree. Melanie Teevee _is_ a chubby eight-months old baby, there's no doubt about that - which makes the whole ordeal even more annoying than anything. Mike is kinda embarrassed to admit that his parents are still _producing offspring_ even though he's turned sixteen not more than a year ago. He - you know - didn't know his parents are still ... doing it.

Actively so, if he must comment.

He bitterly grunt as he watches Violet now place the infant on her lap, slightly juggling the big baby with her hands. Melanie gurgles excitedly, hands reaching out to him in an excited fashion, as if she's trying to tell her big brother of how much fun she's having. Mike simply entertain her with a weak, but soft smile.

"Yes," he decides to tell her. "My mother feeds her all the time."

"This won't do," Violet frowns for a brief second, before scooping Melanie back again to face her, now making faces that she rarely does at the infant, in hopes of making her laugh. Violet isn't disappointed - Melanie's giggles soon erupt from her body. "Don't worry, soon enough I'll get her into shape! Wouldn't want another Teevee to grow up as a lazy-ass now, would we?"

Mike groans and rolls his eyes, while Violet beams bigger at Melanie - who is now attempting to grab a handful of platinum blond hair in her grip, unsuccessfully.

Mike kind of smiles as he watches Violet kisses the baby just under her eyes, urging Melanie to cry out in a gurgling manner - now finally catching a strand of platinum blond hair. She yanks at it, causing Violet to yelp loudly. Mike smiles just a little bit more, "She likes you."

After untangling blond hair from Melanie's chubby fingers, Violet sets her back on her laps, watches as she claps her hand excitedly, eyes blinking at her brother. "I like her too."

Mike stares at the infant for a couple of moments, before he grudgingly offers his finger to her - continue to observe her as she latches quickly on his fingers, and begins teething on it. Mike slightly grimaces, but doesn't pull away. "_I_ like you," he finds himself saying it, catching Violet's eyes across from him.

She smiles bigger, her pale cheeks rising up and complements her wide eyes. "I like you too, Mike."

Mike grins, only then leaning down to plant a kiss on his sister's kinda bald head. Melanie tips her chin back, releases his finger and slaps Mike right across his cheek, giggling loudly afterwards.

Violet laughs.


	9. mikeaugustus

**To friendship. Let's try this out. And _ColorM_: i know you suggested this pairing, but i already did it beforehand, and since you asked for a different situation of the pairing, i decided to post your request in a separate chapter - so consider that i still owe you a prompt. and hopefully, i'll get my thoughts sane enough to write it out before it's too late. thanks :)**

mikeaugustus; _living_

.

When they meet up again at a stupid summer camp, he surprises everyone with a pet guinea pig.

It's nothing particularly special - in another way, it kind of even looks like the owner itself. Big, red and _loves_ to eat. When Augustus urges Mike to first pet it, he has given the ginger boy a look of disgust and emotionless eyes before drawling his answer out, "No."

And then comes the awkward phase when they're friends and Mike's got to wonder how in the _hell_ did he end up here. But he's here now and it's nothing he can change, so he lives up with Augustus and his constant "Are you hungry yet?" questions (because Augustus can never go to the Main Hall - where they all eat their food there - alone) and - oh yeah, that pet.

"His name is Quibbly, Michael."

"_Don't call me that_." He snarls.

"Are you hungry yet?"

"No."

So, everything's been okay up until that one morning when Mike is spending his time sleeping through the morning briefing and Augustus wakes him up by knocking (more like crashing), wailing and crying out on his cabin's door. He opens the door up with a sneer and is shoved with a dead guinea pig to his face. Augustus wails some more.

Apparently some of the bullies had poisoned the pet.

Mike sighs.

They bury his guinea pig under the rocks besides from the place they always hang out, and Mike is forced to participate the funeral for the dead creature and he suppresses his eye rolls very hard until he sees the way Augustus practically suffering from inhaling with his immense sobbing and there's something like sympathy nestles in Mike's being. So, he clasps on Ginger Boy's shoulder and says, "I'm sure if your pet's alive he'd want you to move on."

"His name i-is Quib-Quibbly, Michael." He says, through his sobbing, crying onto his dampen napkin.

"Don't call me that." Mike says through gritted teeth, then sighs out in frustration. "I'm sure _Quibbly_ would want you to continue living. He wouldn't like it if you ... keep on doing _that_."

As if cue, Augustus blows out really loudly onto his napkin. Mike cringe.

"I-I guess you are correct," he stutters, and gradually, Mike watches as Augustus levels down his sobbing - automatically allowing his lungs to collect oxygen in a much-organized pace. They stare at the grave of his pet for a long moment of time while Mike - _sigh_ - he's just trying to get a hold of this situation, you know? He sighs again, looking at the still-crying boy.

"Hey." He calls, and for the first time, he says, "Come on. I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."

It takes a few seconds, but sure enough, Augustus nods, his body reacting to the mention of 'eat'. "Alright. I'm fine now," he turns to Mike, a pleasant smile on his face. "Thank you, Michael."

"Don't call me that." Mike utters his usual mantra, taking the first step. "Now, come on."

And they - you know - continue on living.


	10. mikeveruca iii

**the pairing is requested, but i made up the prompt. this one involved a couple of AUs; one being veruca's cousin, the other the boyfriend. i also have (successfully) written something from veruca's pov, so i'm pretty ecstatic 'bout it. enjoy.**

mikeveruca; _overrated perfection_

as requested by: Yuki Hamasaki-sama

.

Valentina has her whole life organised perfectly for her, with gentle features of a complete young nobleman's daughter, brown locks curl and bounces in all the right places and hands tangled with the most perfect man ever; _Malcolm Turner_, with his mesmerising deep-sea blue eyes, deep dimples and perfectly-combed-to-the-side bright blond hair. A match made in heaven, a classic fairytale of a Prince and Princess coming to life, an excellent tale of love that matches Shakespeare's creation - or at least, that's what they're calling it these days.

Screw them.

Veruca doesn't need her cousin's perfect life - she doesn't need her idiot father who knows nothing but spends his money on such petty stuff, doesn't need perfect brown lock when her messy strains of dark, dirty brown hair is tangled in _his_ hand - his rough and not-gentle fingers; when her story can be of pinning him down and crashing together and laughing at smokes and seeing stars _way past her bedtime_ and sleeps to his not-blue eyes and falls in love with his messy brown hair, and screaming his names - _Mike Teavee_ - because he leaves a big hickey on her neck when he well knows she has a dinner party to go the very next day.

She doesn't need _Prince_ or _Shakespeare_ because when she's climbing down from her room to his arms, she isn't thinking about those stupid people - rather the taste of his lips against her own, and the way he feels against her when he's close enough, and the way he whispers nonsense into her ears when she's drunk enough to actually _giggle_ at it.

Because no matter what she does with Mike, she knows she'll never going to live up to whatever perfect image Valentina & Malcolm has put; so instead of dwelling on ways to match up to all the premade stereotypes, she takes Mike hands and asks him to be himself because, for the love of God, she knows _she_ isn't going to change herself for anyone's sake.

And yeah, she's a disgrace, and he's arrogant; she's a bitch, and he's quite nasty at remarks, but they're nothing if not themselves, and Veruca & Mike is all they have to live up to - and to hell with it, but they're pretty fucking okay with that.


	11. mikeaugustus ii

**i know u said i didn't incline to do anything - but i found your prompt so fantastic, that it would be a waste for me to throw the idea away. hope you'll enjoy it. warning: anorexia, death**.

mikeaugustus; _summer_

as requested by: ColorM

.

Mike went off that summer and Augustus begged him _not_ to go; don't leave me here, Mike; I can't stand these people - but he had to and he promised he'd call and two weeks before school started, he'll be back home (and it's probably one of the rarest time ever he'd say something without so much as a snarl).

"Don't get yourself into trouble when I'm not around, you got me?" Mike told, and Augustus promised.

He had broken a promise.

Augustus couldn't breathe - _oh no help me help me mike please come back_ - and they kept taunting him and asking him where his "boyfriend" is and "Mike is not my boyfriend!" (although he might as well be) and they kept reassuring him that he's sick and Mike wasn't there to tell him to, "Fuck them. They don't know nothing. You're healthy. You're good." And it tortured him, slowly and painfully - and he stayed in his room and he thought of Mike's last word and his promise and he thought about how he's breaking this promise, that might just break _him_.

Because his letter wasn't neat when he had written them, and there were tears - a lot of those, that he knew Mike would cringe - and his sentences weren't sincere and reckless and stupid, although he wanted it to be special. After all, it was his last ones.

And so Augustus took that one gun his papa hid under his drawer and shakily forced it to his head and - with a deep breath - pulled the trigger.


End file.
